alternatehistory.com

Suppressing an ideology will only make it grow stronger. That's that the French learned in their relationship with North Germania.

In the last decades of the 19th century, seeing South Germania's recovery and industrialization, France began a set of actions in North Germania to prevent the two German states from ever uniting. The education system was reformed under French guidelines, it taught to diminish the importance of German identity and instead encouraged Franco-German camaraderie. Historical figures like Charlemagne, who ruled over both France and Germania, were shed with a very positive light. French military presence in the nation rapidly increased, and in many places, their units worked as a separate police, unpunished for a series of attacks and arrests against "Young German" circles and organizations. France continued dominating the nation's economy, trade and foreign affairs, and the politicians of the German republic were pressured to keep up a pro-French stance. This plan of Denationalization backfired, however, as it only bred more German resentment against the domination of their country by foreign powers and fostered a desire to reunite with it's southern neighbour, which remained sympathetic to the plight of their brethren in the north. And this resentment grew more and more represented in the nation's government - the two old, establishment parties, those being the Protectionist League and the Alliance for Democracy, were crumbling in the face of rising Nationalist, Unitarian and Republican movements.

This all resulted in the outcome of the 1910 North German general election, held in September. Both the Protectionists and the Alliance for Democracy, weakened by scandals, voter fatigue and resentment against what was perceived as bootlicking to the French, suffered severe losses in the results, and what used to be a parliament divided mostly between two parties became a rainbow of competing political movements, independent candidates and a few stronger party showings here and there. France had the option of rigging the results and getting a more favorable result, but when the high command presented that option to Eugene Franchet d'Esperey, he declined, citing the failure in the Rhine referendum as proof that it might only make matters worse. After over a month of negotiations, which nearly ended in electoral gridlock, a coalition of nationalist, Unitarian and moderate Republican parties was formed, led by the center-blue National Workers' Party (Ger. National Arbeiterpartei, NAP), and that party's leader, Matthias Bamberger, became the new Director of the North German Estates-General. Bamberger ran on a radical and populist platform of kicking out the French and aligning North Germania with the Baltic-Adriatic Coalition - two goals that many of the nation's citizens wanted, but couldn't say flat out. His party's victory gave the people an example, an outlet for their hidden beliefs - they could no longer fear speaking out their nationalist views, support for pan-Germanism drastically rose, as well as membership in "Young German" and similar organizations.


The new Director's plans were ambitious, too - he set out goals to remove all French presence in North German territory, join the Baltic-Adriatic Coalition and secure their support in the likely French response, end French domination in the nation's economy and trade, and finally begin talks of unification with South Germania into one unitary, indivisible state. Obviously, France was opposed to all of Bamberger's actions from day one, and they did their best to stop them from taking place - they bribed politicians and public figures to speak out against him, in December, they initiated an order of partial mobilization, and declined all North German demands to remove their soldiers. Not all of their actions were successful, but they worked well as a tactic of intimidation. Director Bamberger, instead of folding to the French, turned to the Baltic-Adriatic Coalition - which was ecstatic with the news of the political changes in North Germania. On January 1st, 1911, North Germania officially joined the Coalition as it's fifth member, and around the same time, it began unification talks with South Germania.

This "diplomatic crisis" continued on into February - both sides continued issuing complaints and demands to one another, while at the same time initiating propaganda machines to paint the other side as badly as possible - until finally North Germania decided to go for the kill. In the March 11th Note, Director Bamberger declared that all leases of territory for French military bases have been cancelled and if France does not move it's military presence out of the country by March 18th, one week after the note, all French soldiers on North German soil will be detained and sent home by force. Along with that, the Estates-General of North Germania issued an order of mobilization, which was followed by the Congress of South Germania and Visegrad's Convention of the Three Nations a few days later.

Instead of making a response to the Note, Eugene Franchet d'Esperey opened secret diplomatic channels with Lithuania, requesting on their opinion on the matter. On the behalf of the Emperor, Vincentas Jonas Čepukas confirmed that if France were to enter a state of war with the Baltic-Adriatic Coalition, Lithuania will uphold the treaties of Entente Cordiale and join on it's side in the conflict. With Lithuanian reassurances, the Director gained a boost in confidence.

This was followed by the Final Ultimatum (Fr. Ultimatum final), in which France laid out it's demands - cancelling the effects of the March 11th Note, stopping German unification talks, ordering North Germania to leave the Baltic-Adriatic Coalition and accept an "undetermined" amount of French troops on North German soil, as well as Bamberger to resign in exchange for a more friendly government. It was not really meant to be accepted, and, with no surprise, North Germania declined all points.

On March 16th, 1911, France declared war on North Germania, and, by extension, the rest of the BAC.

The Great European War has begun.

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I remember that day like it was yesterday.

Everything seemed to move so fast around us. Only six days earlier, Bamberger had issued the note. Four days earlier, the High Command was discussing contingency plans on a first strike against Visegrad, and a defense against their surprise attack. Three days ago, I had been informed that Lithuania will join France in any war it takes on against the Coalition. And now... this.

War.

Actual, real, tangible war. Not some skirmishes against Samoyeds, not some exercises.

Real war against an another great power was upon us.

As I was the Field Hetman, the second in command in the Armed Forces, I was requested to arrive to the Imperial Palace in order to discuss Lithuania's declaration of war against the Coalition - and so I did. Do you think I saw worried faces? Serious discussion about our Empire's chances in this conflict? Maybe a terrified Žygimantas, hoping to settle this with diplomacy? You would be sorely mistaken - I was greeted with a feast and joy.

I asked my superior, Marshal Aukštaitis, on what happened. He gave me a simple answer: "We finally have a chance to show those Magyar scum who is the overlord of Eastern Europe - I'm surprised that you aren't more happy."

Under any normal circumstances, I would have argued about Lithuania's chances in this war, but I was way too confused and dazzled by the mood to even raise a voice. And I'm glad I didn't. Let future historians decide which one of us was correct in the end.

Aristocrats were dancing, drinking and cheering at the prospect of sending millions of soldiers into Poland, and the only persons in the room who were even doing anything relevant were Žygimantas and Chancellor Čepukas, who were busy signing declarations of war. First Visegrad, then the two Germanias, then Sweden and finally Spain. As I could tell, Žygimantas had drunk more than a few glasses before this job, because his hand got so sloppy that from North Germania onward he had to use a stamp to give his signature instead of a hand.

Me and Žemaitis were needed to approve an order of general mobilization. The Ciesor wanted two million men to be sent to the front by summer, which is when the majority of the campaign will take place.

If this wasn't an event that determined the fates of millions of people for years, I would have already forgotten it by now - it all felt so casual, so careless, so, so overconfident.

And speaking of casual events, I was introduced to a new person that day. I noticed that the music in the Palace that day was different - it was a piano solo, smooth, vibrant and enjoyable, really fitting to the casual atmosphere. The person responsible for it was a young, 20 or so year old man, with dark hair and a straight stature, even if he was somewhat shorter than average. I asked Čepukas:

"Did you bring someone new for the music in the event today?"

"Oh, yes - it's weird how you didn't notice it sooner. We brought Augustinas Stankevičius - the kid's quite the virtuoso. He has been making concerts since he was eleven, I recall, and the music is quite charming. You've heard of him, right?"

"Indeed, now that you mention his name, I do know him from somewhere..."

"Lovely. He stated that he's volunteered for the Army, he knows his duty as a citizen, so maybe you'll get to meet him in person..."

[Written in pencil]

I was wrong.

I thought I knew who he really is, but I did not.

However, I do now.

And I'm sure you all do, too.


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